


Pokemon: Genesis

by HylianDeku



Series: Council of Sages [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters: FireRed & LeafGreen | Pokemon FireRed & LeafGreen Versions
Genre: Pokemon FireRed & LeafGreen, Pokemon Journey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-22 14:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7443343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HylianDeku/pseuds/HylianDeku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginning lies here. A legend came from humble origins, thrust into greatness over the course of his journey through the Kanto region. Before he knew it, he would become a legend, spoken in whispers as his power slowly changed the world. This is the origin story of that change. This is Genesis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Foreword

This history will not be publicly released.  


In the larger scheme of things, what I am about to tell you is largely insignificant. It doesn’t hold the air of new beginnings like in Johto, or the weight of history bearing down in Sinnoh, or the philosophical and real-world chaos in Unova. No, this is a simpler tale. This is a tale of a young man beginning his journey, like millions of Trainers before him. His road seemed as ordinary as any other, as far as being a Trainer goes.  


It might seem frivolous to you, the reader, but to me, this story is everything. Everything I am about to tell you dictated the way I perceive the world and the methods I used to explore it. Each action and reaction led to the next, until my past became a tapestry upon which I base my decisions. The following story is important because it was the catalyst from which the world began to change. The flame was small, but it grew, and as the world now recedes from its ashes in horror and fascination, we must look to this tale, among others to be told later, as a reference. In order to recover, one must understand the disease.  


This is not to say I blame you, of course. I am the one who hid all this from the world. Perhaps this is my atonement for my sins against humanity and Pokémon alike. Regardless of this is true or not, this is a story that must be told, because from it, my life was changed forever.  


This is my story. From humble beginnings I rose to prominence. From blazing glory, the world burned. From the ashes, we may yet find a new beginning. This is my tale. Learn how I became a Pokémon Trainer.


	2. Dawn

In the blink of an eye, my hand shot towards my alarm clock, shutting the alarm off a mere second after it started blaring. It flashed 5:30 in bright red numbers, washing my dark bedroom in a faint red. Rolling off my bed in a practiced manner, I slipped into a nearby pair of jeans as I got myself ready for my day. For most people, this would be an ungodly time to wake up, even on a Monday, but it was important I not miss my appointment today.  


The house was eerily quiet as I creeped down the wooden stairs of my house, slipping on the jacket I had strategically hung over the railing the previous night. This wasn’t surprising, really. Pallet Town was known for exactly two things: the base of operations for Professor Oak, and that quirky, tiny town people always passed on their way to Cinnabar Island to the south. Other than that, there was nothing of interest, so a grand total of twenty people lived in Pallet, and all but one family was here because of Oak: mine. Is it really called family if it’s only my mother and I? I think so.  


After spending a ridiculous amount of time fumbling in the dark for my shoes, I quietly stepped out of the house, immediately feeling a rush of cool autumn air in my face. It was too early for the trees to be changing color, but the weather was all set and ready to go, every day being slightly colder than the last. The Pokémon spent less and less time out of their natural homes as the days went by, and the sunlight dimmed more and more, ever so slightly. Before we knew it, it would be winter, turning everything as white as clouds and as cold as ice. Not that I hated the cold.  


I shoved my hands in my pockets as I walked down the dirt path leading to the south end of town. For the most part, the path was perfectly straight, with a few bends worn into existence by passerby over the years. We saw a lot of them as they came and went. Some would stop by the Professor’s building to say hello, express interest in his work, but many would just go right on through, no words otherwise. The building itself sat at the far end of town, with a magnificent view of the southern ocean out its front door. My appointment was not with Oak, however. Instead, I walked up to the rocky beach that connected us with the sea. The crashing waves were probably three feet above me, the rolling ocean making the only sound that morning. If I looked hard enough, I could see a tiny speck marking Cinnabar at the edge of the horizon, that speck already more important than our entire town.  


I grew up with this view, this cliffside. Even now, though, it’s difficult to describe exactly what I enjoyed about it. The way the sunlight reflected off the waves in the late afternoon, the occasional Pidgey or Spearow that landed on the jagged edges, or the repeating rhythm of the waves slamming into the rocks below with furious determination, as if desperate to eventually make the rock succumb to its force. As far as I could tell, the rock was winning.  


As I gazed at the water below, I heard the shrill cry of a Pokémon. Recognizing the sound, I looked up to see a large, manila-colored bird flying towards me. It flapped its wings furiously to keep steady in the wind, the small red tufts of feathers on its head ruffling as it moved. It hovered near me like she always had, awaiting my outstretched arm so it could rest. Agreeing to the Pidgeotto’s request, I noticed several scratches on both of her wings. One or two of them were still a bright red; though they weren’t actively bleeding, they were recent injuries.  


“Tough day?” I asked her, watching the way she adjusted her talons as she stood on my arm. She always wanted to find the spot as close to the center of gravity as possible, like she could tell at what point it would be the easiest for me to hold my arm up for her. Though that was hardly necessary: I didn’t really mind. I came to this cliff every morning to check up on her. I had no intention to set my own demands of comfort when it was her I was trying to help.  


The bird cooed quietly, rubbing her wings together in an attempt to rub off some of the pain.  
I wasn’t allowed to give her medicine. I wasn’t trained, and Professor Oak had conceded only that I could provide her with secondary food if it was clear she was unable to get food on her own. Otherwise, it would be seen as disrupting the balance of the ecosystem around these parts. Not that I blamed him for thinking that way, but I’d have rather not let a Pokémon starve.  


“Looks like you got into a scuffle this morning,” I noted, pointing to the cuts across her wings. “Someone found the same food as you?”  


“Otto…”  


“I can relate…” I muttered, shifting my gaze to the ocean. “But it’s ok. Oak said I can give you food today if you still don’t have any.”  


The bird lost interest in her wings as I reached into my pocket with my free hand, pulling out a long, plastic tube, blue with a Poke Ball top on it. I pushed the button on the ball with my thumb, which flipped open the capsule to reveal a light blue cube. The Pidgeotto stared at the cube like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.  


“First things first,” I reminded her. “You get yours.”  


I held the PokeBlock dispenser towards her, still holding the button down. Cautiously, as if nervous I would trick her and close it just to tease her (not that I’ve ever done that before, of course not), she dipped her beak towards the dispenser. Suddenly, before I could blink, she snatched the block with her beak, greedily chomping on the squishy cube for several seconds before arching her head back and swallowing it in a dramatic gulp.  


“Pidgeotto!”  


“I’m glad you enjoy it!” I chuckled. “I’ll be sure to let Mom know you like her cooking. I’m learning, but…well, cooking isn’t my strong point.”  


She cocked her head to the side, giving me a curious expression.  


“Don’t worry about it,” I assured her. “And now, for the other one.”  


I released the button for a second, letting the mechanism reset, then pressed it again, revealing yet another Flying PokeBlock. Once again, she stared at it like it was the most divine treasure in all of Kanto.  


“This is for your baby,” I reminded her, holding the block away from her so she would listen. “Understand?”  


“Otto!”  


“Good.” When I held it out to her, I held my breath. Not that I didn’t trust her, but if the Pidgeotto started taking more than her share, I’d be finished. Oak wouldn’t let me help her anymore, proof that I was harming more than helping.  


Thankfully, just like always, when she snatched the block from my dispenser, she held it in her beak, like a pair of chopsticks holding a piece of meat.  


“Are you ok to fly?”  


She nodded to reassure me, cooing.  


“All right, then. Good luck, buddy.”  


Just like that, she took off, flying towards the south, to wherever her nest was situated. Oak said she was probably on one of the smaller islands that dot the ocean in between here and Kanto. That could explain the difficulty she seemed to have finding food. As I watched her fly off, towards a sky that was slowly transitioning from the dark blue of early morning to a brighter hue, a small wave of comfort washed over me. Somehow, I was certain I was making a difference. I had never seen her baby Pidgey in person, but I could imagine it happily accepting its extra food from its mother, cooing in happiness. It made me feel better, considering…  


“And there she flies, a cheater.”  


If I clenched my fist any harder, I’d have snapped my PokeBlock dispenser for sure.  


“Or are you the cheater, and she’s just the victim? Maybe both of you are cheaters, and the ref is bought out.”  


Even in the lingering darkness, his bright orange hair seem to illuminate itself, shooting up in random spikes with no particular plan in mind. The rest of his body was clothed in a dark tee and dark purple jeans, so I couldn’t quite make out the rest of his body yet, but I didn’t need to. I could imagine him just fine.  


“What are you doing here, Blue?” I snapped, sliding the dispenser into my pocket before it became an unfortunate victim of our feud. “Since when do you get up this early?”  


“Since now, obviously.” I could almost hear his smug grin from where I was standing. “I wanted to watch you and your oh-so-scandalous friend first-hand. I gotta say, man, you’re neck deep in shit.”  


“Professor Oak says it’s safe,” I fired back, falling for the bait like I was twelve. “He tracks the Pidgeotto all the time, so he knows what’s going on.”  


“Look, I’m not here to discuss the morality of you feeding a wild Pokémon.”  


“You’re not?” I replied incredulously.  


“No.” He paused. “I just think you’re an idiot.”  


“Funny,” I replied, turning on my heel to make my trip back to my house. “I think the feeling might be mutual…”  


“Ooh, scary,” he mocked, shaking his voice to feign fright. “The ‘not I, but you’ rebuttal. How very grown-up of you, Andrew!”  


The worst part of this exchange was we were neighbors, meaning I had to listen him mock me for my entire trip back home. If there was an award for highest patience levels, it would first go to my mom, then to Professor Oak, and then to me. All because of this moron, who had decided at age 10 that he was going to be the town bully. Specifically, he had chosen me to be his nerdy, abused partner. For the most part, I could ignore it. Days like this, though, when he had found me at probably my most vulnerable, were cutting it close.  


“Seriously, why are you still going for this?” he inquired. “The entire town, save my grandfather, is completely opposed to the idea, and you know it. You’re only screwing with the ecosystem, and it’s gonna come back and bite her in the butt later on. You know she’ll become dependent on your food supply; maybe she already is. You and Grandpa can’t confirm that’s not the case.”  


“Don’t you have better things to do today than hovering around me like a Venemoth?” I fired back. “Because I’ve got a few ideas if you’re not sure.”  


“And you call me dense…” he muttered. Suddenly, he had stopped in front of me, forcing me to hit the brakes before I walked into him.  


“Listen, wise guy,” he seethed, pressing his face uncomfortably close to mine. “Don’t you get it? You’re killing her.”  


“Tell me how giving her food is killing,” I replied evenly.  


“The day you stop feeding her is the day before she dies, wise-ass. She won’t know how to get food from anywhere else, so maybe she’ll track you down and harass you until you feed her. That’s happened before. Or perhaps she’ll become a scavenger, digging through trash cans and piles of wrapping paper to find food. Is that what you want?”  


“If she had been able to migrate like the others last month,” I retorted, my fists clenching again, “I wouldn’t have to worry about that. But no, you and Scientist Josephine decided it was a good idea to observe flight patterns with her for three days longer than necessary. You confused her, and she missed her migration time like the rest of her flock. So you don’t dare blame this on me.”  


His eyes widened, incredulous.  


“You piece of—“  


“Blue!”  


Hearing his name was like hearing a gunshot. Blue leapt back at least two feet, looking over my shoulder at the person calling for him. Looking where he was, I was instantly relieved.  


I don’t think I had ever seen Professor Oak without a white lab coat on. At the very least, his short hair was as white as ever.  


“Why aren’t you at my lab, Blue? You were supposed to be there thirty minutes ago.”  


“Sorry, Gramps,” He replied, his temper disappearing like it never even existed. As if.  


“Well, let’s go. We’ve got a busy day today.”  


“I’m on it.” He glanced at me as he walked off.  


“Smell ya later, chump.”  


As he walked off, Oak continued to stare at me, as waiting for something.  


“Morning, professor,” I said, waving my hand weakly.  


“Everything went well this morning?”  


“She was a little scratched up today,” I admitted. “I think she was fighting with another Pokémon for food this time.”  


“So, she’s competing more aggressively…” he mused, resting his chin in one hand.  


To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure if Oak was really on my side in all this. All I could tell was, he took notes on my interactions with the Pidgeotto, even joined me on a few of my trips if he could find the time. He wanted to be as informed on the situation as he possibly could. I respected that, but I really wanted to prove I was right in helping her.  


“Is… Is that a good thing?”  


“Can’t say yet,” he replied immediately, returning his eyes to me again. “We’ll need to see more consistency in her injuries to confirm it’s not a one-time fluke.” He started to smile now, removing all the tension around us in a matter of seconds. “Speaking of research, I want you to come to my lab later today, around noon.”  


“O-Of course,” I replied, “What’s the occasion?”  


His response was to wink and walk south again.  


“You’ll find out when you get there!” he laughed.  


Many people think Oak is stern and somewhat harsh. While he may appear like that on the surface, he does have compassion. He just prefers to rely on hard data than simply relying on past opinions or just his feelings. In other words, Oak’s a numbers guy.  


Sighing, I turned to face the front door to my house. Not much to look at: it was the smallest house in the town. It was meant for two people, though, so I couldn’t really complain about the size. It had enough for Mom and I. As I walked through the front door, I vaguely wondered if Mom had heard our brief argument outside. My question was answered when I heard her call out to me.  


“Morning, Andrew!”


	3. Help

Catching my bagel as it leapt up from the toaster, I did my best to avoid looking too nervous.  


“What would Professor Oak want to see me for?” I wondered aloud, grabbing a knife to spread my cream cheese with as my mother went to turn on the morning news.  


When my mother didn’t respond, I came to a realization.  


“He already told you, didn’t he?”  


She twisted her body around the dark blue couch, giving me a playful wink.  


“It’s not anything bad,” she answered, trying to reassure me with her bright blue eyes. “In fact, it’s amazing he’s doing this for you. You should be excited!”  


Now I was extremely curious, but Mom had gone back to watching the TV before I could press her for more details. Figures. I plopped myself at the kitchen table, munching on my breakfast with one hand as I twirled my PokeBlock dispenser with my other hand, trying to distract my racing thoughts.  


“How was she today?” she asked, sensing my thinly-veiled concern from across the room.  


“She’s…struggling,” I admitted. “It looked like she had gotten into a scuffle over food last night. I had to help her out again.” I sighed, setting my hat on the light brown counter top. “I wish I could do more for her…”  


“You’re doing everything you can, dear,” came her standard reassurance. “The fact you’re going by the book on this is important.”  


“I know, I know…” Setting my finished napkin in the trash can, I twirled my PokeBlock dispenser in my hand, watching the tip of it spin around my hand. “I guess I just want to prove to everyone that I’m right, that this is the right thing to do. She’s clearly improving, going after prey on her own more frequently. This was the first time in a week I had to actually feed her. I know she’s almost there. If she can recover from her injuries, she should be able to—“  


Thankfully, she stopped me mid-rant, placing her hands on my shoulders as she stared me in the eye, her eyes filled with both admiration and exasperation.  


“You are,” she said, smiling, “hands-down, the most stubborn child I’ve ever known.”  


“Well, I’d hope so,” I replied, smiling at the familiar exchange we had for years. “You’re the one who raised me, after all.”  


“Hm…” was her reply, pulling away slightly in mock thoughtfulness. “I guess I did. Of course, if I recall, I haven’t actually stopped raising you yet.”  


Still smiling, she finally released my shoulders, walking over to the couch to retrieve her purse.  


“Now, I have some errands to run in Viridian. Think you can hold down the fort all by yourself?”  


“I think I’ll manage,” I responded, grinning as I made my way to the staircase at the end of the living room. “Be careful out there.”  


“Always, Andrew. Loves?”  


“Lots of loves. Bye, Mom!”  


I had lived in Pallet Town for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I knew every speck of dirt on the walking paths, knew every corner of every house, knew exactly where the local Pokémon liked to hide their nests, and I made sure to avoid their homes as much as possible. My mother was insistent on my need to be outside, running around as much as I needed space to run around, she always said, and Pallet Town quickly became as comfortable as the palm of my hand. As I grew older, Mom decided Pallet was becoming too small for me, so we took regular trips to other towns and cities. She took me beyond Viridian to the north, to places like Pewter City’s museum, Vermillion City’s harbor and all the ships docking and leaving. We even took a one-time vacation to Fuchsia City a few years back, to visit the Safari Zone. I got to see Pokémon beyond my wildest imagination, creatures I had only read rumors about.  


My mother’s biggest fear, she would tell me, was my world being small. She was afraid I would feel confined in tiny little Pallet, with no place to go. She wanted my world to stay vast, wonderful, and mysterious. That was her one wish.  


After finishing my breakfast, I spent some time jotting down notes about my earlier encounter with the Pidgeotto. Professor Oak was clear: if I was going to do this, I was going to be as professional as possible. That included compiling daily notes of my visits with the Pokémon, including specific time-stamps and personal observations and recommendations. By acting like an official scientist, I would earn credibility amongst the other townspeople and the rest of the scientific community. At least, that’s how Professor Oak phrased it to me.  


Thankfully, there wasn’t much to add to the report, minus the fresh injuries on her wings, and then I could safely forward the report. Slouching in my chair as the message sent, I breathed a tired sigh.  


I didn’t blame the others for not agreeing with this “project” of mine. It technically went against the rules of the Pokémon Union. Yet, at the same time, I had watched that Pidgeotto struggle for food for weeks, and once I realized she couldn’t return to her flock and migrate with them, I couldn’t sit around and watch her die. Not while I was a witness. Thankfully, Oak understood my desperation, and trained me how to properly feed a wild Pokémon. After the first week, I came out on my own, setting a mutual agreement with the Pidgeotto to meet every morning.  


As I stared out my bedroom window, reminiscing, I noticed a commotion out near the northern exit of town. Some people had even begun to circle around the dirt path, looking around in concern. I stood up, confused as to what could be causing such trouble, but it didn’t take long for me to hear the shrill cries of a Pokémon. I was sprinting out of the house before it had even registered in my mind which Pokémon was in trouble.  


I pushed my way through the small crowd to get a better view, and I skidded to a halt as my blood froze.  
Rattata are a pretty common sight for Pallet Town, but this was something else. Manilla and white fur bristled in a predatory anger, its long, pink tail standing straight up into the air. Its three-fingered toes dug into the sift dirt as it stood its ground, snarling to reveal several two-inch long, razor-sharp teeth, glistening in the late-morning sun. Its beady red eyes narrowed at its newfound prey, and I was horrified to confirm who the Raticate had found to be its food.  


Her feathers were sticking out all over the place, many of them floating gently to the ground as she fought, a gracefulness in contrast with the battle for her life. Having gotten back up to her feet from the previous bout with the Raticate, the bird Pokémon attempt to take off again, stretching out her wings, but the Mouse Pokémon was quicker, Tackling her to the ground before she could take off and gain the advantage.  


It was a Pidgeotto. My Pidgeotto.  


With sudden realization, I scanned the nearby area, desperately trying to see if it was nearby. A small rustle in the bush behind her immediately caught my eye. It caught the Raticate’s eye as well, but it couldn’t get very far towards the bush before Pidgeotto kicked up the dirt beneath her, enveloping the fighting area in a cloud of dust and dirt.  


She wasn’t just fighting the Raticate. She was protecting her baby from it.  


“Don’t even think about it,” one man responded, grabbing my arm before I could move. “How are you going to save them without a Pokémon of your own to fight it with?” His eyes softened, gazing over me with a look of pity. “I’m sorry, son.”  


“Then why doesn’t anyone else do something?!” I shouted, yanking my arm away as the dust slowly began to clear. “We can get Professor Oak! Or one of the other researchers! We can’t just—“  


“Everyone who can help left for Viridian twenty minutes ago,” he replied grimly. “They left to get more supplies for the lab. There’s nothing we can do…”  


That’s when I saw him.  


The dust was clearing, but neither contestant had moved since I started arguing, staring each other down as they tended to their wounds. Then, without a sound, a little head poked out of the bush. Unlike his mother, his head was mostly brown on the top, with manilla feathers on the side of his head and neck. He was the smallest Pidgey I had ever seen, at least two-thirds the average size around Pallet. Unperturbed by the number of onlookers, he let out a quiet coo, as if asking his mother if the danger had passed.  


The Raticate snapped to attention, baring its fangs at the sight of his prey. Pidgeotto tried to fend it off, but was slammed to the ground, its injuries too severe.  


“No!”  


Without thinking, I charged forward, scooping some dirt with my hands and flinging it at the Raticate to get its attention.  


“Leave them alone!”  


Unfortunately, my plan worked.  


Dazed by the dirt in its eyes, it stumbled around for several seconds, before its nose caught up with me. Its brain shifted gears a little too quickly for my liking, immediately crouching to the ground, ready to charge at me, instead. Before it had begun sprinting in my direction, I only had time to process a single thought.  


Uh-oh.  


I didn’t get to run very far before it was on top of me, trying its hardest to sink its teeth into any random part of my body. I tried to grab its mouth with my hands as we wrestled, but its paws just clawed my hands away, leaving bloody scratches on my hands as we fought. No matter how hard I fought, I couldn’t get the rodent off me, and none of the bystanders were in a position to help me.  


“Pikachu, Thundershock!”  


The air temperature suddenly jumped a million degrees, both of us actively recoiling from the blast. Rolling away, I noticed a small trail of smoke coming from the Raticate, its tail twitching as it tried to figure out who attacked it.  


“Quick Attack.”  


A small, yellow blur darted around the Pokémon, sending it into a state of panic as it tried to get a read on the attacker, but was unprepared for the Pikachu from attacking from behind, sending the Raticate to the ground. The yellow Pokémon skidded to a halt, its zig-zag tail standing straight up as it stood on all-fours, mimicking the Raticate’s aggressive stance.  


Getting the hint, the wild Pokémon hissed at the Pikachu, before limping away back north, escaping back into the brush without another fight.  


I laid on the ground for a few more seconds, trying to catch my breath and keep my heart from bursting out of my chest. I was finally succeeding in the latter when my rescuer came up to me.  


“What were you thinking?” exclaimed Oak, holding out an arm to pull me to my feet. “You knowingly attacked a wild Pokémon without anything to defend yourself!”  


“I had to do something!” I fired back, exhaustion turning into frustration. “What was I supposed to do, stand there and watch?!”  


“Getting yourself killed wouldn’t have done anything, moron.”  


I felt my anger rising as Blue walked over to us.  


“You would’ve willingly let her die?” I was practically seething now. “I guess it makes sense. You would steep so low as to justify the death of an innocent Pokémon—“  


“It’s the wild, wise-ass!” he spat back, losing his cool in a split-second. “There is no such thing as innocent! Why you can’t get that through your damn skull…”  


“Actually, Blue, you would be wrong,” said Oak, silencing us.  


“But Gramps—“  


“I thought I told you to stay in the lab,” Oak remembered, cutting off his grandson’s argument. “Get back there and finish our preparations. Now.”  


Blue looked like he wanted to continue arguing, but a cold glare from Oak ended that desire immediately, leaving him to instead huff and storm off, more than a little angry.  


“Now, Andrew.”  


I blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the remaining frustration out of my eyes.  


“Yes, Professor?”  


He didn’t answer right away, his large eyes studying my appearance: there was dirt all over me. My cap was pointed sideways from the fall, my hands covered in scratches and cuts that pulsated red lines across my skin. My jeans looked frayed from the friction with the ground, caked in dirt and dust.  


“I would like to see you in my lab as soon as possible,” he finally said. “I have something to show you.” A small smile curved his lips as he walked back to the lab. “But don’t forget to wash up before you do. You should be presentable.”  


And so Oak retreated to his lab, leaving a tattered and confused teenager behind to wonder what in Kanto he kept hinting at.


	4. Chapter 4: Twin Beginnings

I had only been in the laboratory a handful of times, usually to run errands for my mother while she was away, but every chance I got to experience it, it blew my breath away.

Over a dozen workers buzzed back and forth, talking with other scientists as they bustled around the various corridors and monitors that were sprinkled all over the place. A trio of scientists in bleach white lab coats were pointing excitedly at a display monitor of the Kanto region, with numerous red dots periodically blinking in various coordinates on the map. Another station featured an older man holding two halves of a plastic frame that had melted together in an awkward configuration, receiving the blunt of his assistant’s frustrated glare, not saying a word. As I walked alongside the professor, I spotted a pair of scientists standing over a small, plant-like Pokemon, with a bell-shaped, yellow head with two beady black eyes. One of the scientists attempted to high-five the Pokemon, only to be yanked to the ground by a sudden vine shooting out from its body and latching to his hand as a greeting, pulling him to the floor in a second. Having washed up in a few minutes in my overwhelming excitement, this was the most incredible experience of my life.

Or it would have, if Blue wasn’t giving me the coldest glare from across the central corridor, a chaotic blend of eternal frustration and genuine shock and confusion at my mere presence.

“What are you doing here, runt?” he exclaimed, his attitude cutting through the air like a steak knife. “I thought you’d be busy being mauled by wild Pokemon.”

“That’s enough, Blue,” Oak interrupted. “I have decided Andrew will be the second recipient of this gift.”

Blue’s predictable outburst was silenced immediately by Oak’s piercing stare, a look in the professor’s eyes I don’t think I had seen before.

“Okay, okay…” he muttered, trading places with the professor so he and I were gazing at the small, rectangular table behind which Ok was now standing. As I gazed upon the table, I discovered there were three standard Poke Balls, placed in even distance away from each other, gray buttons facing Blue and me. As the scene before me clicked into place, my pulse began to quicken. It couldn’t be, right? There was no way.

“Andrew! Blue!” he began, drawing the attention of a few scientists who were not immediately pressed for attention.

“This world is inhabited by creatures known as Pokémon. Their numbers are vast, their diversity is great, and yet we know very little about them or how they work on a biological level.” He began pacing now, walking from side to side behind the desk. “Our world is vast, full of mysteries waiting to be solved, or even revealed! As ‘civilized’ as we claim to be, we live in a mostly uncharted world, and the Pokémon Union has decided it is time to begin exploring it.

“However, the world is also full of dangers. The unknown is feared by many for good reason, and so, we believe it is time to begin charting this world. This is why the Union entrusted this lab to me several decades ago, this is why we work day and night to study Pokémon, and this is why…” He paused for dramatic effect, grinning. “…I would like to give both you a Pokémon to begin your journeys!”

It took me several seconds to process this information, but when it did, it hit me like a tidal wave. No way. I get to have my own Pokémon now?! Is Oak really certifying me to be a Pokémon Trainer?!

Not everyone was given certification to be a Trainer. You had to prove you were strong enough, kind enough, smart enough. Like Oak had said, Pokémon weren’t largely understood at this time. Trainers were certified by either resident professors, Gym Leaders if your town was graced with one, or an application process on the Union’s database, and that often took weeks to process. To think I had the opportunity to become a Trainer right now…

I stared at the table in front of me, three Poke Balls facing me. I was so distracted I didn’t even hear Oak’s comment.

“What?!” Blue blurted out, catching my attention. “Why does he get to choose first?”

“Because he has earned it, Blue,” Oak replied harshly. “Be patient and wait your turn.”

I turned back to the table, suddenly incredibly nervous. My first partner rested here, and I had to decide with very little knowledge of who these three are. There were little plaques next to each ball, so I could at least see the names of my choices. “Bulbasaur, the Seed Pokémon” was on the far left, “Charmander, the Lizard Pokémon” was in the middle, and “Squirtle, the Tiny Turtle Pokémon” was on the far right. To be honest, I knew very little about any of these three choices, which meant I was basically going in blind. I knew they were rare, but we never even really saw them at the lab, since they typically resided on the other end of the country from Pallet.

To this day, however, I’m absolutely certain some unknown force was drawing me towards the middle ball, towards Charmander. By all rights, I was picking totally at random, yet I’m still sure, to this very day, that something was telling me to go with Charmander. Something I couldn’t understand as my hand reached out to grab Charmander’s Poke Ball.

“Ah, so you’re going with Charmander, the Fire-type,” Oak noted. “Are you sure this is what you want? You only get to make this choice once, you know.”

Something faint in his voice caused me to falter. That wasn’t just a question to make sure I was certain in my choice. It was like he was trying to caution me against something. Was there something wrong with me choosing Charmander? I stared down at the smooth metal ball, rolling it in my hand, until I made my decision for the second time that day.

“I’m going with Charmander,” I replied, putting as much confidence in my voice as I could.

Whatever I had sensed in his tone immediately dissipated, his face erupting into a huge grin.

“Well, congratulations, then! Charmander is your first Pokémon!”  
The exclamation almost made me fall over. My first…Pokémon. I know it’s common courtesy to pay attention while the others in your group are selecting their Pokémon, but to be honest, I was too busy staring at my Poke Ball in a kind of speechless wonder to even notice Blue was already at the table until he boldly exclaimed his choice.

“In that case, I’m going with Squirtle!” he cried out, swiping the far right ball from the table.

“Well chosen, Blue. Congratulations!” Oak turned towards the two of us. “Now you can both meet your partners!”

While Blue seemingly had no difficulty in summoning his Pokémon, I had to be gently coached on how to actually work the Poke Ball in the first place: pressing the button on the front of the ball and making sure my finger was out of the way of the button, or the mechanism wouldn’t actually fire (something about a failsafe). I pressed the button with my index finger, then pointed the button towards the ground as a small blue light shot out of it, quickly solidifying into the shape of a small lizard. The orange Pokémon appeared as if he had bene sleeping, but upon noticing the change in surroundings, he slowly rose to his feet, wobbling slightly as he tried to keep his balance. I immediately noticed the small flame burning on the tip of his tail, the small red flames flickering against the silver floor. Charmander looked around in apparent confusion, large, blue eyes scanning the area.

I raised a hand.

“Hello there!”

His eyes snapped to me in complete shock. Terrified by the sudden sight of a human looming over him, he tried to back-pedal and flee, only to trip over his own tail and fall kind of pitifully on his back with a thud.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry!”

“Char…”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, little guy…” I sat on my knees closer to the floor, reducing the height difference. “Are you ok?”

After getting back to his feet, the Charmander spun in a small circle, checking his legs for any scrapes. When the coast seemed clear, a smile appeared.

“Char!”

"That’s good…” I sighed. “Let’s try this again.” I held out a hand. “My name’s Andrew. I’m your new Trainer!”

Even Charmander seemed shocked at this piece of news, his head tilting in confusion. He almost didn’t seem to believe me, couldn’t believe I had really chosen him over the others..

“Char…”

After a few moments of staring my outstretched hand, he grasped it with both of his own, seemingly in agreement.

“Char!”

"There you go, little buddy!” I exclaimed, suddenly happier than I had been in a very long time.

“Well, now that we’ve had our lovey-dovey bonding time…” Blue goaded, pointing a finger at me from across the room, with a blue turtle Pokémon at his feet. “I think it’s time we did something long overdue.” He smirked. “I challenge you to a battle!”

And there it was. At long last, we had our very own Pokémon. Not just ones on loan to us from Professor Oak to assist with research, but our own, real Pokémon, and we finally had the chance to duke it out like we always wanted to when we were kids. At last, we could finally begin to settle the score. As our eyes narrowed as we stared at each other, we knew this would be the beginning of the end.

“Let’s do it.”

\----------

For Charmander’s part, he really didn’t seem very eager to battle, continually looking back at me, as if hopeful I would change my mind and let him retreat to safety.

“It’s ok, Charmander,” I assured him. “It’s just a Squirtle and mean old Blue. We can take him!”

He seemed to take some solace in my confidence. With a glance at the small red flame on his tail, he turned to face our opponent, who had moved towards the other end of the room. Some of Oak’s assistants had hastily removed the more expensive of the research equipment in the room in the event our battle got more rough than normal.

“You ready to lose, punk?” Blue sneered, glaring at me with that signature look, full of arrogance. My eyes narrowed in response.

“I am so ready.”

Our Pokémon immediately tensed up, as if sensing the tension rising between us.

Funny thing about unofficial battles like this: there’s no referee announcing when the fight begins or anything, so we ended up staring at each other for a good few seconds, sizing each other up.

Squirtle, get him!”

“Ra!”

The adorable little turtle began running right towards Charmander with his head tucked forward slightly, looking a little less cute and a little more deadly.

“Charmander, get out of his path!”

The little Fire-type bent his body as if trying to dive to the right, but he was too slow for Squirtle, who plowed right into him, knocking the lizard to the ground.

“Come on, Charmander, get up!” I cried.

Charmander managed to push off his opponent and get to his feet, slightly unsteady but otherwise ok.

“Go for the Scratch!”

“Char!” The little orange lizard swiped towards Squirtle with his claws, but before they could reach…

“Squirtle, Tail Whip!”

Instead of Charmander’s claws connecting with Squirtle’s face, the latter spun around, slapping Charmander with his tail, sending him back to the ground with a pitiful thud.

“Hey!”

“It’s fair play, loser!” he fired back. “Besides, I’m surprised your Charmander is even bothering to fight, with his condition and all.”

“Quit your bullshit,” was my retort, as I bent down to help Charmander back to his feet. He seemed a bit more wobbly this time, having a harder time staying on his feet.

“No, seriously,” he responded. “You see the flame on his tail? How it’s red instead of orange, and smaller to boot?”

Now that you mention it… I couldn’t believe I didn’t notice it before.

“Charmander show how healthy they are by the color and brightness of their tail’s flame,” he remarked. “A healthy Charmander should be wearing a bright orange flame, not a small, red one. Looks like something’s wrong with him, pal!”

I looked down at my little buddy, at how exhausted he looked. His skin was noticeably pale, now more red than orange as the light from his tail washed over his body. I suddenly felt terribly for rushing into a battle. No wonder Charmander hadn’t really wanted to battle today.

“But a battle’s a battle, so I guess I gotta finish this up. Squirtle, take him out!”

“Come on, Charmander, you can do it!” I begged, willing him to keep fighting as much as I could. “Go for the Scratch!”

Instead, Charmander took about two steps forward, and then collapsed onto the tile floor.

\----------

She tasted blood as she hit the dirt yet again.

Dim, overhead lights flickered painfully overtop the metal arena, drowning her in a sickly yellow-green light as she buried her bruised elbows into the dirt, trying to pull herself up before her opponent reached her again. Too slow, a pale purple hand grabbed her by the arm, yanking her to feet so hard she felt her shoulder pop. She smeared a hand half-heartedly across her face, shoving aside strands of messy blonde hair as she centered herself for another round. The goal wasn’t to defeat this thing.

It was only to survive.

A roar signaled her opponent’s renewed interest, the towering Machoke shooting out another punch towards her chest. She realized her mistake too late: by ducking downwards, she was in range of its legs, one of which immediately shot up to shove a knee into her temple. She faintly heard cheering from the bystanders as stars flooded her vision, the impact sending her stumbling into the metal fence behind her. It took all of her energy just to stay on her feet, which let the Machoke grab her by the tattered white undershirt she was wearing and fling her into the opposite side of the confined cage/arena. She fell back into the dirt again, tasting the metal in her blood as she regathered the will to stay conscious amid the rush of noise. If she didn’t, she would die right here.

Her opponent seemed to be waiting for her to catch her breath. It might have been a gesture of honor, had it not have given the bystanders time to hurl insults at her. Her shirt had several tears in it, and at this rate, it was only useful in giving her opponent a handle to smash her to pieces. Sill glaring at the Machoke, she ripped off the tattered remains of her shirt, ignoring the handful of hollers and whistles from the pigs outside.

“Come on, you slut, I came here for a fight!” one of them yelled.

“Choke!” With a roar, the Machoke ran up to her once again, preparing for another series of swings. Only her instincts kept her alive, curling her bruised and battered body around each punch as blood raged in her ears, drowning out her senses. She was so focused on dodging its fists, however, she was totally unprepared for a kick right to her stomach. All the air in her lungs fled her body instantly, leaving her choking as she struggled to breathe. She doubled over in the dirt, violently resisting the urge to vomit, giving the Machoke the perfect window to grab her again, this time by her waist, hoisting her over its shoulder with one hand, earning roars of approval from the onlookers. With a roar of triumph, the Fighting-type threw her down onto the ground again with a loud thud. She could feel a few more ribs crack from the impact, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. It took everything she had to stay conscious; she couldn’t even push her ragged body out of the dirt.

“TIME!”

The area grew completely silent. Even Machoke turned to face the speaker, who calmly walked into the arena as if he owned it. With the lighting as poor as it was, the man’s black clothing made his figure difficult to distinguish, apart from the bright red R at the center of his shirt.

“Stand up.”

It was a quiet, calm instruction, but the implied threat forced her to ignore her body’s pain, digging her bloodied hands into the chain-link fence to pull her body upright. After a minute, she turned to face the referee of this “sport,” ignoring the way the dirt clung to the bloody scrapes along her back like needles along her spine.

His eyes were studying her, but not like the pigs outside, who gazed at her like lustful animals stared at the feeding trough. He seemed to size her up, like an army sergeant greeting the newest volunteers at boot camp. He evaluated her as a tool, as a weapon, analyzing every drop of blood and every bruise that dotted her skin.

“What is your name?”

It took a few seconds to remember, the adrenaline working so hard to block out the pain it was almost impossible to think.

“Lindsey,” she croaked, the sound earning her a few chuckles from the crowd.

“Lindsey," the man repeated, another stare as he evaluated her head-to-toe.

He eventually decided.

“So you have survived, so does Team Rocket survive. We vipers are not easily vanquished. As you have survived your initiation, you are officially one of us now.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “There is no going back.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a black beret identical to his own and tossing it towards her. She made a move to grab it, but lost her balance and fell face-first into the dirt, lacking even the energy to kneel.

She could hear only one more sentence before she finally passed out.

“Welcome to Team Rocket.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like our adventure is finally starting! But who is Lindsey? And what does Team Rocket have in store for her?


End file.
